Healing Process
by Coopereid
Summary: What happened to Spencer between 'Nameless, Faceless' and 'Haunted', after being shot in the leg by the unsub? Derek/Spencer, slight canon bending
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** As always, I own nothing. I've always wondered what happened with Spencer during Nameless, Faceless and afterward with his injury, but also wanted to write a Derek/Spencer. This is the result. Hope you like it!

* * *

Derek Morgan ran a hand over his face, groaning. The last few days had been some of the most exhausting of his career. They'd barely arrived home from the case in Canada when they were called by local police to help with the Barton case. He'd been at the school with JJ all day while Spencer and Emily stayed with Doctor Barton, trying to figure out who was trying to come after his son. When they made it through the day without any issues, he came to the conclusion they were never really after the son at all. He wondered what it really was while they were on the drive back from the school.

This question was answered when he heard Emily over the radio.

_This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss from the FBI. I need police and an ambulance to 120 Kensington Road, McLean, Virginia. Shots fired, federal agent possibly down._

He looked over at JJ, who was beside him in the SUV. Her eyes were wide, but she was trying to stay calm. "She said possibly, he might not even be hit."

He exhaled, slamming down on the gas pedal, speeding back to the Barton's house. By the time they arrived, there were already two police cars and an ambulance. As he pulled into the driveway, he saw Doctor Barton tending to somebody on the lawn, and the EMTs working on them. With a second look, he saw they were helping the unsub, and Spencer sat in the grass nearby clutching his leg, obviously in pain. When Doctor Barton actually did check on him, Spencer shooed him away, sending him to his son instead.

Derek loved his genius, but sometimes he was so incredibly stupid. He ran up to him and JJ was the first to speak. "You okay?!"

He winced, hand clutching his leg. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Derek looked down at his leg and saw that he was shot and his hands were covered in blood. Upon closer examination, he saw that there was a bullet hole, straight through his leg. He knew he was the exact opposite of _fine_. He reached down, picking up his gun from the grass. "We'll get you to a hospital."

Spencer winced again, the pain obviously hitting him. "We need to find Emily. Call Emily."

Derek wanted to reach right out and slap him upside the head. Obviously the genius was lacking his common sense, and had a much different definition of the word 'fine' than he did. Last he checked, a bullet through the leg and bleeding on somebody's front lawn wasn't 'fine' – it was painful and hurt like a bitch.

Rossi looked down at him, confused. "Where is she?"

Spencer again pushed the pain aside. "Something's happened to Hotch."

The team members looked around at each other, confused.

* * *

Spencer bit down on his lip, putting his hands behind himself, trying to get up. Derek quickly reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

He gritted his teeth. "Derek, I'm _fine_. Call Emily."

Derek turned around and saw Rossi with his phone out, already talking to her. "It's taken care of, Pretty Boy. Stay still."

He took a deep breath, looking down at his wound. Doctor Barton hadn't been kidding – the bullet did go right through his leg. Based on his prior research, this type of injury would require surgery and take _months_ of healing.

Derek looked at his leg, sighing. "Spencer-"

"It didn't hit the femoral artery, which would've caused me to bleed to death. I don't think it hit the bone either, just went through most of the tissue and muscle, so I won't need a cast-"

JJ walked behind him, putting a hand over his mouth. "Save your strength for your anesthesiologist. Another ambulance is on the way right now, they're going to get you up to surgery as soon as you get there." She then turned to Derek. "Do you have anything we can use to cut down the blood flow?"

He thought for a moment and pulled off his shirt, tying it around Spencer's leg, tightening it.

Spencer winced, pushing JJ's hand aside. "Damnit, Derek, not so hard!"

Derek smirked to himself, resisting the urge to make a joke.

Rossi walked over, putting his phone in his pocket. "Hotch is at Saint Sebastian, she didn't give any other details, said she'll fill us in when we get there."

Spencer exhaled, lying back in the grass, putting an arm over his eyes to block the sun. "Can't somebody else get shot or otherwise injured for a change? I love you all and would do anything for you, but this is getting ridiculous!"

JJ bit down on her lip, smiling. "What can I say, Spence? It's like you're a target for bad luck. You must've been quite the character in your past life for all of this negative karma."

"Did you know that karma-"

JJ put her hand over his mouth again. "Save it."

* * *

As the ambulance pulled up to the house, Derek looked up at Rossi."I'm going with him. Let me know how Hotch is doing?"

Rossi nodded, glancing over at JJ. "Are you coming?"

She moved her hand, kissing the top of Spencer's head. "Stay safe," she whispered, rubbing his arm.

He nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "_Son of a bitch_ this hurts."

Derek rubbed his arm as the EMTs ran up. "GSW to the leg, above the knee. Didn't hit the fe-"

Spencer interrupted. "Didn't hit the femoral artery and I don't feel any broken bones. No narcotic medications."

One of the EMTs looked up at Derek. "Don't ask, just don't give them to him."

"He's going to be in a lot of pain-"

"Oh? A lot of pain?" He laughed softly. "There's a lot of pain in getting shot in the leg? I had absolutely _no_ idea that getting a bullet through your leg meant you're going to be in pain. Thank you for that wonderfully insightful bit of information."

Derek opened his mouth to explain, but the EMT shook his head. "I've heard it all before."

* * *

After he was on the stretcher, Derek followed him into the ambulance, sitting beside him. Spencer groaned, leaning his head back and squeezing Derek's hand. "Kicked, kidnapped, drugged, recovering addict, hostage, anthrax, shot – I'm one incident away from turning in my resignation and becoming a recluse. I can't possibly get that many injuries sitting quietly in my house reading."

Derek laughed softly. "Oh, I'm sure you'd find a way."

Spencer winced as one of the EMTs examined his wound. "Yes, it's a gunshot and it's through my leg, you touching it isn't making it feel any better! DEREK MORGAN, get that smug grin off your face!"

Derek kissed his forehead, pushing his hair back. "Sorry, Pretty Boy. I've never seen you talk like this."

Spencer groaned. "We'll put a bullet through _your_ leg, see if you can keep your composure."

Derek shook his head. "Let's _not_ test that theory."

He whimpered, looking up at the roof. "Is Hotch okay? What about Hotch?"

"I'll fill you in after you get out of surgery, I promise."

"But-"

"But nothing. Calm down."

* * *

When they arrived at the hospital, Spencer was rushed up to surgery, leaving Derek to find out what happened to Hotch. He walked to the room JJ had texted him. Before he could get there, she stopped him in the hallway.

"How is he?"she asked, rubbing his arm. He noted that she was using the voice she reserved for talking to people who were hurt, specifically victims.

"Running his mouth like a sailor and probably counting backwards from 10 right now. He should be out of surgery and in his room in a couple of hours." He saw her clutching something in her hands. "What's that?"

She sighed, holding out his credentials, a picture of Haley and Jack inside. "They found this on Hotch when he was dropped off at the hospital."

He closed his eyes, groaning. "That son of a bitch. How's Hotch?"

She leaned against the wall. "He got him pretty bad. Multiple stab wounds and he took the 'B' page out of Hotch's address book."

Derek froze. "Isn't Haley's maiden name-"

"Brooks," JJ confirmed, nodding. "We need to go pick them up, bring them here so Hotch can say goodbye before they're taken into protective custody."

He nodded, but took a quick look at the clock.

"We'll be back before he wakes up, I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer woke up in his room, his vision still blurred and his mind trying to remind him how he got there. He glanced down at his leg and saw it in a brace, starting at his upper thigh and ending below his knee. He also saw a pair of crutches leaning against the wall next to his bed and internally groaned, dreading the healing process.

"I think he's waking up," he heard someone whisper. It took a minute to realize that it was JJ sitting on one side of his bed, Derek on the other.

Spencer took a deep breath, sighing. "How's Hotch?"

JJ smiled. "Just got out of surgery and his first words are asking how somebody else is."

"Same old Pretty Boy."

He whimpered, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, the room coming into focus.

"I'm gonna go check on Hotch, can you keep an eye on him for me?"

"Derek, 'm in a hospital. Don't need a babysitter," he mumbled.

Derek leaned over, kissing his forehead. "I'll be back soon."

He nodded, resting his head on his pillow.

"How are you feeling, Spence?"

He sighed. "Like I just got a bullet through my leg and needed surgery to repair it."

She smirked, reaching over and rubbing his arm. "Other than that, are you feeling okay?"

He nodded slightly. "I'm going to be on crutches for a while, so you're stuck with me at the station."

"Fine by me, I could use the company."

He yawned, stretching. "Not like I'd be much help in the field, kicking down doors is Morgan's job."

She reached over, rubbing his arm. "I'm gonna go check on Hotch. Can I get you anything while I'm up?"

He thought to himself. "Some jell-o?"

"What is it with you and gelatin snacks after near death experiences?" she asked, pushing herself out of the chair and walking toward the door.

He shrugged, sitting up, wincing slightly at the pain in his leg. "So are you going to tell me how Hotch is, or do we have to play 20 questions?"

She sighed, turning around to face him. "Foyet got to him, multiple stab wounds all over his body, he was dumped at the hospital with Derek's credentials."

"He's going to be _pissed_. Well, more pissed, if that's at all possible."

"So, jell-o," she started, "anything else?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

He gave her a look. "_Go_."

* * *

She walked back into the room a while later and saw Spencer wasn't in his bed. Instead, he was attempting to balance on his crutches, limping around the room.

"Spence, _what_ are you doing?"

"You know, crutches are essentially chopsticks for your armpits. How in the world do people function on these?"

She bit down on her lip, giggling. "Chopsticks for your armpits – that is _so_ going in the record books."

He shot her a glare, groaning, attempting to balance himself. "Underarm crutches are used most often for temporary disabilities or injuries, and the pads need to go against the ribcage, but for the love of god, how do you keep going?"

She poked her head out in the hallway, stopping one of the nurses. "Excuse me, can you get an extra pair of crutches in here? He needs some training."

The nurse nodded, coming back a minute later with a pair of crutches for her.

"What do you know about crutches that I don't from my research?"

"I have better than research," JJ said, adjusting them to her height. "I have real world experience. I got an athletic scholarship playing soccer, but I ended up blowing out my knee in a championship game – needed to be on crutches for three months afterward. Now, shut up and follow my lead."

He watched carefully as she rested the pads against her ribcage. "Not too soft that you lose your balance, but not too hard that you hurt yourself."

He observed her position and mimicked it.

She smiled. "Perfect. Now," she started, bending her knee to mimic him, "just move forward on them, careful not to put too much distance so that the pad at the bottom slips." She took a few steps with them, turning back to him. "Now you."

He took a deep breath, sighing, mimicking her again and looking up to her for approval.

She rested the crutches against the wall. "There you go. An added bonus of crutches? No need to work out for several months. You build up major muscle in the arms and tone your legs."

Derek leaned against the door, smiling. "I think I'm going to like you on crutches, Pretty Boy."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "You're only going to like it because I'm going to have an ass, and everyone knows you're an ass man."

He shrugged. "You've caught me."

Spencer sat back on the bed, leaning the crutches against the wall, opening his jell-o cup and eating, shooting a glare at Derek. "Derek Morgan, I have several months of healing, and you live with me. This can either go very well, or I can be the biggest pain in your ass. Watch it."

* * *

"Doc says you're going to be in here for a few nights so they can keep an eye on your leg, be sure it's healing properly or something?" When he saw Spencer ready to interrupt, he quickly changed the subject. "Do you want me to stop by the house, grab you a few things?"

Spencer nodded, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, sending Derek a text.

_Pillow, blanket, pajamas, the books on my nightstand, my reading glasses, and a coffee in my room first thing in the morning_.

Derek checked his phone when it buzzed in his pocket and smirked. "How am I supposed to know when you're going to wake up?"

"You've been with me for three years, Derek. You figure it out."

JJ smiled, rubbing his arm. "Want me to stay while Derek heads out?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Go home to Henry, I'll be fine. I'm probably just going to take a nap." He yawned softly, lying back on the bed.

She leaned over, kissing his forehead. "Take care of yourself, Spence."

He nodded slightly before drifting off.

Derek got up, taking out his keys to the Suburban. "Anything else I should get him?"

She thought to herself. "Something to keep him entertained. He's going to blow through those books in no time."

"Finding something to occupy the guy who hates modern technology and doesn't like any movie without subtitles? This should be fun."

"I heard that, Derek," Spencer mumbled, eyes still closed.

JJ smirked, patting Derek's back and walking out.

* * *

Spencer woke up a while later, the lights switched off in his room. He was extremely grateful for whoever did that, because waking up to blinding hospital lights was a pain. He pushed himself up on his elbows, sighing.

"How are you feeling, Reid?" He glanced over and saw that Emily was sitting beside his bed.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"A few minutes. Derek wanted me to check on you before I went home for the night. So are you going to tell me how you're feeling, or do I need to pull teeth?"

He smiled slightly. "A bit sore and in pain, but for a strange reason, _extremely_ glad that I have doctor's orders to stay in the hospital and rest up for the next few days."

"Is it wrong that in an odd way, I'm jealous?"

He shook his head. "Not at all, because I'm slightly jealous of you. After a few nights in the hospital, I have a week off at home, and then a few days to get used to my physical therapy."

"Two weeks off work paid because it's a work-related injury? That's a profiler's dream."

"Profiler's dream, my nightmare."

"Right, I forgot you lack the ability to sit still."

He nodded. "Don't have too much fun on any cases without me."

"Trust me, it won't be too hard. At least you can keep Derek on his toes."

* * *

Derek walked in, several of Spencer's things in tow. He set a duffle bag down at the foot of his bed, filled with books, clothes, and a laptop, along with his Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and foreign films. He also has his blanket and pillow tucked under his arm.

Spencer sighed, taking his pillow, setting it behind his back.

"Did you get my books?"

"The same ones you asked for."

"My pajamas?"

"Your three favorite pairs."

"Reading glasses?"

"Tucked in the side pocket in the protective case."

"My coffee?"

"Will be right here next to your bed first thing in the morning."

"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" he asked, reaching for the bag and dragging it over, opening it.

"You've said it once or twice."

Emily got up from her seat. "I'll leave you two alone." She looked over at Spencer. "Are you going to be up for visitors in the morning?"

"Definitely – it'll help break up the monotony of correcting the doctor's misdiagnoses of several patients based on my extensive medical knowledge."

Emily smirked. "Do you by chance have a Ph.D in 'smartass'?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think they have that as an option."

Derek shook his head. "Goodbye, Emily."

* * *

With help from Derek, Spencer was able to change into his pajamas and lay back in bed. He sighed, looking up at him. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered, looking down at his lap.

Derek hooked a finger under his chin. "I'm going to miss you too, Pretty Boy," he said, kissing him softly. "But all night, I'm going to be a phone call away, I promise."

Spencer smiled slightly. "When I get home, I expect cuddling. Being deprived of it for three days is going to be my undoing, I swear it."

"I'm sure you'll survive, though Clooney's probably going to miss his buddy."

* * *

Spencer spent most of the night sitting up in bed, headphones on and movies playing on his laptop. He'd have to be sure to thank Derek later for packing them, because the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He wouldn't admit that he was dozing off in the middle of the foreign films, because he'd never hear the end of it.

When he woke up, true to his word, Derek had a cup of coffee waiting for him on the nightstand. He reached over, taking the cup and sipping it.

"Of course that's priority," Derek said, chuckling softly.

Spencer glared at him over the cup, not answering him until he finished it. "Shut up."

"What did you do last night?"

"What anyone does at night, Derek. This crazy idea called _sleep_, obviously a foreign concept at the BAU. Did you sleep last night?"

Derek shook his head. "Not well. Clooney just isn't the same – he's not my personal space heater."

Spencer smirked, shrugging.


	3. Chapter 3

The day Spencer was released from the hospital, he stuffed everything into the duffel bag, zipping it up. He pushed himself off the bed, ready to balance on his crutches, when Derek came in, pushing a wheelchair.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Spencer groaned. "I'm doing what my version of walking is for the next few months."

Derek shook his head, pointing to the seat. "Put your bottom here, now."

Spencer gave him a look. "Excuse me?"

Derek shouldered his bag. "Sit."

He sighed, sitting in the chair, bending his knee and wincing slightly. "Derek, I'm fine, I can walk out of here."

"You won't be walking _anywhere_ for another couple of months."

Spencer mimicked him, resting his crutches in his lap.

Emily walked in, taking them from him. "I'll take those."

"What, does everyone need to share in my misery now?"

She smiled. "Nice to see you too, Reid. Derek figured you could use some help getting into and out of the car, and considering Hotch's condition, the fact that Rossi ignores everyone on his days off, JJ spending her time with Henry, and Garcia off with Kevin for a few days-"

"You drew the short stick?"

"Not quite, I volunteered. Now, if you want me to leave and be stuck with Derek-"

He quickly shook his head. "You're more than welcome."

"Thought so."

* * *

After he signed his discharge forms, Derek pushed him out to the car, reaching out and opening the back door. Spencer peeked in and had to resist the urge to laugh – Derek had filled the entire backseat with pillows.

"I don't know, Derek, is that enough padding for him?" Emily joked.

"Probably not," Spencer said quickly, trying to push himself out of the chair. Emily laid the crutches down on the floor of the backseat, looking at him. "Do you need help?"

He nodded, admitting defeat. Before he could say anything, Derek picked him up out of the chair, laying him down in the backseat.

"Derek Morgan, if I could kick right now, I'd kick you. That wasn't necessary!"

He smirked. "You're welcome, Pretty Boy."

Emily got in, buckling her seatbelt, while Derek walked around, getting in himself.

"Need anything, Spencer?"

He shook his head, fluffing the pillow behind his head. "I'm golden."

"Looks pretty comfortable – is there room for two back there, Reid?" Emily asked.

He considered it and quickly shook his head. "Get a bullet through the leg and we'll talk."

* * *

When they got to Derek's apartment, they looked in the backseat and saw Spencer fast asleep. Emily held out her hand. "Give me the key, I'll bring the stuff inside while you wake sleeping beauty."

Derek took the keys out of the ignition, holding up the house key.

She smiled. "Good luck." She got out, opening the backdoor and taking out his crutches and duffel bag, and running up to unlock the apartment.

Meanwhile, Derek opened Spencer's door, kissing his forehead. "Up and at 'em, sunshine."

Spencer buried his head in a couple of pillows, shaking it. "Not happening," he mumbled.

"Am I going to have to carry you _again_?"

"Mhm."

"And am I going to have to make a fresh pot of coffee?"

He nodded and Derek sighed, reaching in and picking him up, walking into the apartment. He set Spencer down on the couch and walked to the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker.

"Clooney, _down_!" Spencer snapped.

Derek looked in and saw Clooney attempting to jump on the couch, next to Spencer's knee. He quickly whistled, distracting the dog.

Spencer sighed. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Need anything else?"

"A couple Tylenol and maybe an ice pack?"

"You've got it." He walked out, handing Spencer a fresh mug of coffee and several sugar packets, then made his way back to the kitchen, filling an ice pack.

Emily walked out of the bedroom. "Bags are unpacked, crutches are next to the couch, and laptop is charging."

"Emily, you don't have to keep helping. You can go home, I'll be fine. I have Derek here to bother."

She sighed, sitting at the end of the couch. "I should've stayed with you at Barton's house, and I shouldn't have left you to check on Hotch. Because I did, we're down two agents instead of one. It's my job to protect my teammates and-"

He propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. "And you took it upon yourself to check on our team leader when we needed him. Anyone else would've done the same thing."

"Because I left, you got a bullet through your leg."

"He would've managed that anyway," Derek said, setting the icepack on his stitches and handing him two Tylenol.

Spencer quickly swallowed them and grabbed the pillow behind him, hitting Derek with it. "If you keep that up, you can get yourself comfortable on this couch and I'll enjoy the king size with my busted leg."

Emily smirked, patting his other leg. "If you need anything else, I'm a phone call away."

"I won't, but thank you."

She nodded, getting up and walking out, closing the door behind her.

* * *

As soon as he was sure she was gone, he groaned, leaning his head back on the couch. "Have I mentioned it hurts to get shot? Because it hurts to get shot."

"In case you've forgotten, Pretty Boy, I've been hurt on the job before too."

Spencer held out his two empty hands. "Let's see. Derek being tasered and going through a window with the Boston Reaper… Spencer getting kicked, kidnapped, drugged, going through withdrawals, being held hostage, being poisoned with Anthrax, and then _shot_." He weighed them in the air then gave Derek a look. "Sorry, I _think_ I win."

Derek leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Do you need anything?"

He pointed to his crutches. "I need to get up so I can go to bed and take a nap. Anyone who actually gets a good night's sleep in a hospital deserves a prize of some sort, because it is seriously next to impossible."

Derek stood up, bending down and picking Spencer up.

"Derek Morgan! Will you stop that?!"

He smirked, walking to the bedroom, setting him down on his side of the bed.

"I'll never get practice on my crutches if you carry me everywhere," Spencer explained.

"What, you want to practice with your armpit chopsticks?"

Spencer groaned. "You're not allowed to talk to JJ anymore."

Derek shook his head. "Get some sleep, I'll have lunch ready when you wake up." He grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it over him. "Want me to send Clooney in to keep you company?"

Spencer nodded slightly, pulling the blanket up further. "Please."

He whistled and Clooney ran in. He quickly picked him up, setting him on the bed beside Spencer, who reached over and ran his hand through the dog's fur.

"Derek?" Spencer mumbled.

"What is it, Pretty Boy?"

He yawned, eyes still closed. "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

Derek was able to wake him up for lunch, but he went back down for a nap not long after. While Spencer was sleeping, Derek laid back on the couch, idly flipping through the channels on the television. He knew better than to do this when Spencer was awake, because he'd be getting a lecture about how annoying the sound of flipping through channels really is, which would be followed by a deathly Spencer Reid silent treatment. He'd peek into the bedroom every few minutes, to be sure he was still asleep and not in any pain.

He only moved from his position on the couch when he heard a soft knocking on the door. Luckily Clooney was asleep in the bedroom with Spencer, or he'd be barking up a storm at the sudden noise. He looked through the peephole and was greeted by a giant basket. He knew behind it had to be Garcia, so he unlocked the door, opening it.

She walked in, setting the basket down on the living room table. "How's my little Boy Wonder doing? I'd have visited at the hospital, but I didn't know when he'd be sleeping and really didn't want to be a bother if he finally did go down."

"Better. Unlike typical Spencer Reid, he's actually resting when his body tells him and medicating when necessary."

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing." They both turned to see Spencer, balancing on his crutches, limping out to the living room. Garcia helped him over to the couch, setting a pillow under his leg and leaning the crutches against the wall.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked, pushing some of his hair back.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Better."

"I was just telling Derek that I was sorry I didn't visit at the hospital, but-"

"You weren't missing anything. Just me attempting and failing on crutches and a lot of me sleeping, or at least trying."

"I know everyone else visited you, and I'm sorry-"

"Everyone needs to stop apologizing! I'm fine. I don't know if you've heard this before, Garcia, but I'm not that much of a people person when I'm in a hospital bed."

"He's not," Derek added, sitting beside him.

Since Spencer couldn't reach one of his crutches to hit him, he simply hit him upside the head. "Like I said, you can complain when you get a bullet through the leg."

Derek rubbed the side of his head. "Hurtful."

Spencer shrugged, looking at the basket Garcia had brought in. "…Is that an Adipose plush?"

She smiled. "It is."

"Oedipus?" Derek inquired.

Spencer rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Honey… no." He reached over, patting his cheek. "Seriously, one day I'm going to teach you about Doctor Who. It's from the episode Partners in Crime-"

"Which I thought was super fitting, considering you and I are going to be BFFs until you're cleared to fly," Garcia added.

Spencer looked up at Derek, who laughed softly. "BFF – Internet shorthand for 'best friend forever'."

"…I wouldn't have guessed that," he admitted, looking through the basket. Inside was a hand-knit blanket in the colors of Four's scarf, several Doctor Who DVDs, a Tardis shaped coffee mug, a few bags of coffee, and a container filled with baked goods.

"I still don't know what kind of sweet tooth you have, so I made a little bit of everything – cupcakes with Doctor Who designs, different types of cookies, and banana bread. If you want something else, I can make it. I just want to be sure my 187 is content, considering you have to spend the next week or so at home."

"It's a week and a half, and it's fantastic, thank you."

She leaned in, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tight. "Spencer Reid, sweetie, you need to stop giving me so many heart attacks. I don't know if I'll survive the next one you give me. Next time, let someone else be the victim."

He laughed, rubbing her back. "I'll try my best, I promise."

Garcia pulled back, pointing a finger at Derek. "And Derek Morgan, you'd better take good care of him. If I hear otherwise, I promise you that one of your properties will be not-so-mysteriously foreclosed on, _and_ I will show junior g-man here the nude photo from art class – _not_ the good one."

Derek put his hands up defensively. "I promise."

On the other hand, Spencer was intrigued. "Nude photo? What art class are we talking about here?"

"If he doesn't take care of you like he should, I promise you'll find out all about it."

"Besides, you have the real thing," Derek added.

Once again, Spencer backhanded him. "Keep that up, and I won't be seeing it for quite some time."

Garcia smirked, clawing at the air. "Roar."

* * *

She ended up staying for a few hours, giving Spencer more company than Derek and Clooney for a while. He definitely appreciated it – especially the fact he was able to talk about things that really interested him for a change, such as Doctor Who. He'd tried on many an occasion with Derek, but every single time, never fail, he felt like he was a teacher using all of his strength to pull answers out of his student.

Garcia ran a hand through his hair. "Does it hurt? I remember when I was shot, I was wondering why we could register so much pain."

Spencer shook his head. "Only if I really think about it, or move it in the wrong way. When it happened? My priority was still the case and I didn't even register the pain."

"And like an _idiot_ he let the unsub who was ready to kill Barton get the ambulance that came first, and chose to sit in the grass, bleeding and in pain, waiting for a second one to show up."

Garcia gave him a look. "You are so lucky you're already injured or I would _hurt_ you, Spencer Reid! Momma Bear needs her cubs to be safe. That is not playing it safe, mister."

"Fine, next time I get shot-"

"No! Nuh uh, there is no 'next time'. I can't tolerate another gunshot or kidnapping or whatever else you get yourself into. From now on, I'm demanding you sit on your hands and stay still."

"He'd still find a way to get hurt, Baby Girl."

She sighed, leaning back. "Just be more careful, okay, 187? No more giving me grey hairs. Hair dye is getting expensive."

He smiled slightly, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "I promise."

* * *

Before she left, she once again made Spencer promise he'd stay out of trouble, or at least try his best to, considering his permanent bad luck.

She turned to Derek. "So I'll see you at work on Monday?"

He nodded. "No Hotch and no Spencer? It's definitely going to be dull."

She looked over and saw Spencer looking bummed out. "If I have downtime, 187, I'm more than willing to play some online games with you, or maybe even have a Skype chat. Break up the monotony of watching nonstop Doctor Who for the next week and a half."

He smiled slightly, nodding. "Sounds great."

She bent down, kissing his forehead, ruffling his hair. "Take care of yourself, Doctor. I'll be checking up on you."

"Looking forward to it."

* * *

When they again had the house to themselves, Derek turned to Spencer.

"Need anything?"

He shook his head, pulling the blanket out of the basket, pulling it over himself. "Thanks to Garcia? I'm good."


	5. Chapter 5

Derek woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. He sighed, sitting up. "Spencer?"

"Yeah?" he heard from the other room, then heard the sound of crutches against the floor.

He pushed himself out of bed, following the source of the noise best he could that late. Finally, he found him in the living room in front of the bookshelves.

"What are you doing? It's the middle of the night-"

"Technically, since it's 2:58, it's early in the morning."

Derek rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing out of bed? You're supposed to be sleeping, and on top of that, you're supposed to be resting your knee."

"Well, I need to know how to use the crutches, and practice makes perfect, right?" he asked, picking up a pile of books and arranging them in order on the shelves. "Besides, I never finished unpacking my books when I moved in last year. I want to get them out, that's all."

"Spencer, get back in bed."

"Derek, I'm fine. I just wanted to organize my books-"

"At 2:58 in the morning?"

"Technically, I woke up at 2:29, so-"

Derek shook his head. "It is way too early for that. Get back in bed."

"Can't sleep," Spencer put plainly, straightening out another shelf.

He was ready to argue back and sighed. "You're in pain, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Considering I carried on several conversations and talked down an unsub with a gunshot wound, it's safe to say I have a high tolerance for pain-"

"Are you in pain?" Derek rephrased.

Spencer sighed, admitting defeat. "Yes."

"Get in bed, I'll grab an ice pack and your meds."

He balanced on his crutches, limping back to the bedroom and laying down. Meanwhile, Derek filled up his ice pack and grabbed a few of his pills from the cabinet. When he made it back to the bedroom, he saw Spencer sprawled out on his side of the bed. He shook his head, handing him the pills.

"Are they non-narcotics?" Spencer mumbled.

"Only the best for my man," Derek said, winking.

Spencer rolled his eyes, popping them in his mouth and swallowing while Derek climbed on the bed, putting on the ice pack.

"Have I mentioned this sucks?" Spencer asked.

"You haven't, but I'm sure-"

"Because this _sucks_," he finished, pulling the blanket over them.

Derek leaned over, kissing his forehead and running a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you can handle it."

Spencer gave him a look and opened his mouth to speak, but only yawned. Fortunately, he was able to talk before Derek made a comment. "Shut up."

Derek smirked, fixing the blanket over him, tucking him in. "Get some sleep, Pretty Boy. If you need anything, I'll be right here all night." He wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist. "You're stuck with me."

"Derek, you're being ridiculous, let go."

He shook his head, tightening his grip around his waist. "I'm making sure you follow doctor's orders and _actually_ get some rest."

* * *

Derek was extremely relieved when he woke up and Spencer had stayed put the entire night. He leaned over, kissing his forehead, and slipping out of bed. The younger man whimpered at the loss of contact, burying his head in the pillow.

"Nuh uh."

Derek smirked. "What's wrong, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer groaned. "Come back."

Derek shook his head. "What if I make coffee?"

"That's not fair, you're making me choose between coffee and cuddling. Can't I get the best of both worlds?" He looked up at him, pouting. "I'm broken and need cuddles to feel better."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, rubbing his eyes. "Cuddling is an effective way to get rid of the pain from a gunshot wound."

"Says what research?"

"Says my personal experience."

Derek leaned over, kissing his forehead. "I need to walk Clooney. I'll come back with coffee and breakfast."

Spencer sighed. "Fine. You have ten minutes or I'm taking over the whole bed."

"Challenge accepted."

* * *

After walking Clooney, Derek went to the kitchen, starting the coffee and mixing some pancake batter. When he finished, he set everything on a tray and walked to the bedroom, pushing the door open.

"How did I do?" he asked, setting the tray in front of Spencer.

He sat up, checking the clock. "Fifteen, but since you made my favorite breakfast, I can forgive you."

Derek took the seat beside him, grabbing his coffee mug. "Good."

Spencer picked up his own, sipping it. He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You put in just the right amount of sugar. It only took you… eighteen attempts?"

He shrugged. "Eighteenth time is the charm."

He leaned over, kissing Derek's cheek. "You know you're the greatest, right?"

He smiled. "I may have heard it once or twice."

Once Derek cleared away their coffees and breakfast, Spencer grabbed him, pulling him down on the bed.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Spencer pulled on his shirt, wanting him to move closer. "You go back to work tomorrow. Today, you're all mine, and we're not leaving this bed."

"Oh?" Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

Spencer shook his head, resting his head on his chest. "Today was made for cuddling."

"What if you need pain meds or an ice pack?"

"I'll suffer," Spencer said, putting a finger to his lips. "Now shh."

Unable to say no to him, Derek spent most of their Sunday in bed with Spencer, only getting up to walk Clooney, get food, or get Spencer medication or ice pack, even though he'd deny needing it.


	6. Chapter 6

When Monday morning came, Derek tried his best to stay quiet while getting ready, careful not to wake Spencer. He opened the drawer, pulling out his shirt when he heard a soft whimpering sound coming from under the blankets. He quietly cursed himself, turning to face the bed.

"Derek?" Spencer asked, muffled by the blanket still pulled over his head.

"What is it, Pretty Boy? Do you need something before I leave for work?"

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. "Start the coffee," he mumbled, pulling up the blanket further and going back to sleep.

Before leaving, Derek walked into the bedroom, kissing the top of Spencer's head. "Are you going to need anything?"

Spencer yawned: "You to be quiet and this week of 'rest and relaxation' to be over, because it's going to be anything but."

Derek smirked. "Why's that?"

"Because I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't do well sitting in one place. I need to move around, I need to keep busy, and I need to interact. That's going to be kind of impossible, considering my only contact here is Clooney, and even though I love the furry little guy, he's no human."

He smiled, running a hand through his hair. "It'll be over in no time. Just stay here, watch your Doctor Who, and cuddle up with your Oedipus."

Spencer shook his head. "Just go to work before you further embarrass yourself."

"If you need anything, I'm a phone call away." Derek bent down, kissing him softly.

Spencer pulled back and nodded. "All I need from you right now is a cup of coffee and for you to go to work."

"Noted." He walked to the kitchen, making Spencer's morning cup and walking back, setting it on the nightstand. "Anything else?"

"Silence."

Derek shook his head. "Bye, Pretty Boy."

Spencer stuck a hand out from the blanket, waving him away. Derek resisted the urge to laugh at him and grabbed his car keys, leaving for work.

* * *

Garcia walked over to Derek's desk, leaning against it. "How's my little Boy Wonder doing?"

He leaned back in his chair. "He's okay. Never admits when he's hurting until it's so bad he can't even move, but he's handling it better than I thought. Except Saturday night – I woke up before 3:00 a.m. to find him limping around the living room, arranging all of his books on the shelves and trying to do everything even though he's limited."

She pouted. "Poor guy. Has he at least tried to take it easy?"

"I actually succeeded yesterday and got him to relax the entire day."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

He shook his head, pointing a finger at her. "Watch it, Baby Girl."

Emily laughed. "But really, how did you manage to do that?"

"The two C's – coffee and cuddling."

"That'll keep me in bed any day," Garcia admitted. "When's he coming back?"

"Next Monday, and trust me, he's counting down."

* * *

A while later, JJ walked up to Derek's desk.

"…Don't tell me there's a case already," he said carefully, motioning toward the folders in her hand.

She shook her head, setting them down. "How's Spence doing? I just tried to call and got his voicemail."

He leaned back in his chair. "Judging by Saturday night when I left and he didn't answer? He's passed out on the bed with the blanket Garcia made draped over him, and his phone is ringing on the nightstand."

"He _actually_ slept?"

He smiled, nodding. "Surprised me too. I didn't think he knew the definition of the world 'relaxation'."

"I heard that."

He groaned, spinning around in his chair and seeing Spencer, limping in on his crutches toward his desk. "Spencer…" he warned.

"…Derek?" he responded, limping over to his desk and leaning against his crutch, pulling his drawers open and stuffing a few things into his satchel.

JJ raised an eyebrow. "How did you even _get_ here?"

"Subway, and surprisingly, nobody's going to get up and sacrifice their seat for a guy with a bullet wound in his leg. Even if he falls off of his crutches. Twice."

Derek sighed, running a hand over his face. "You could've called me and I would have grabbed whatever it was for you. Or picked you up on lunch. How did you even manage getting dressed on your own to get here?"

"It was a huge effort that definitely deserves rewarding."

"Oh?" Emily asked, looking between them.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Does everyone here have a perverted mind?" He asked, shouldering his bag.

"Most likely," JJ responded, picking up her folders and hitting him in the arm with them, "now go home and get some rest. Please?"

"I promise." He pulled his subway ticket out of his pocket and made his way to the elevator.

"Derek," Emily warned.

He got up, grabbing his car keys and following Spencer out.

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Derek asked as he was driving him home.

"I was thinking I left some of my books in my desk and wanted to re-read them, and rather than waiting around, decided to get them myself."

"You weren't supposed to be at work for another week. Not to mention the doctor said-"

Spencer groaned. "The doctor said I need to get practice and learn to use my crutches, because I'm going to be on them for a few months. The doctor said not to do too much. The doctor said a lot of things, Derek, and I remember every single one of them, so don't use what the doctor said against me."

Derek sighed, leaning back in his seat. "I'll be leaving work early today to get you to physical therapy."

"Fantastic. So I get to be in _more_ pain and not get medication strong enough?" Spencer rolled his eyes, watching out the window.

"You could always take-"

"What, Derek? Take something containing narcotics? Yeah, because the last two years being clean mean absolutely nothing."

Derek parked the car and looked over at him. "Do you need to see a movie?"

Spencer sighed and nodded wordlessly, running a hand over his face.

"What time?" he asked, before getting out and walking around, opening his door, handing him his crutches from the backseat.

"7:30, but-"

"You'll be there."

* * *

Spencer sighed, pushing himself up and grabbing his crutches, limping up the front steps. Derek followed a few steps behind him, to be sure he didn't slip or fall.

He was sure he made it into the apartment safely and looked at him. "Do you need anything?"

Spencer, who had been staring at his own bicep, looked up. "Hm?"

"Do you need anything?" he repeated.

He bit down on his lip. "I'm scared I'm getting bad again."

Derek raised his eyebrow, sitting on the table in front of the couch. "How so?"

"I've been weighing the options of pain relief and withdrawal symptoms, and I just… I'm starting to think maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

Derek reached over, taking the coin out of Spencer's shirt pocket. He twirled it in his fingers. "This right here says that you're two years clean. You're better than the temptation, and you know you can overcome it."

Spencer took the coin from his hands, tracing the '2' with his finger.

"You're stronger than those cravings, Pretty Boy. You know you are."

He shrugged, sighing.

"Is that why you really came to work? You thought it'd get you away from the thoughts?"

He nodded silently.

"How long?"

He exhaled. "Since I got shot and was sitting in the grass."

"And you didn't think you could talk to me?"

He reached up, wiping his eyes. "I thought if I just kept it in, it'd go away like it usually does. But it didn't, and it's only gotten worse."

"Spencer, look at me."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the medallion in his hand.

"Spencer."

He shook his head again.

Derek reached over, hooking a finger under his chin and pulling it up. He saw tears in Spencer's eyes and sighed, wiping them away. "I'm going to call Rossi, let him know that you need me more than the team does right now." Spencer tried to interrupt. "There aren't any cases right now, he'll understand. We're going to talk, and see if there's an earlier movie you can see. Will that help?"

When Spencer's response was a nod, he walked to the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot. He then took out his phone, calling Rossi, while Spencer listened intently from the living room.

"Hey, Rossi, it's Morgan. Yeah, I'm gonna need to stay home the rest of the day. Yeah, he's fine it's just – exactly. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Is he mad? Are you in trouble?"

Derek shook his head, pouring him a cup of coffee and grabbing the sugar, walking to the living room. "He says it's fine and sends his well wishes."

Spencer sighed, pouring in the sugar and stirring. He took a sip, setting the cup down on the table. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He leaned over, kissing him softly.

Spencer pulled back. "What was that for?"

He shrugged. "I figured you needed it. And besides, I like your coffee-flavored kisses."

Spencer smiled slightly, blushing and picking his cup back up.

* * *

A while later, Derek took Clooney for a walk, leaving Spencer in the apartment. Spencer sat on the couch and took his phone out, calling Garcia.

"Why hello there, my precious Boy Wonder. Sitting at home getting to you already?"

He smiled slightly. "Sort of. I actually need a favor from you, if that's okay?"

"Of course, anything! What do you need?"

He adjusted the ice pack on his knee, wincing slightly. "I um, I need you to look up local movie times for me, if that's okay?"

He heard her typing on her keyboard and knew she caught on. With a sigh of relief, he leaned back on the couch, waiting.

"Here we go, 187. The next meeting near you is in an hour and a half at the community center."

He smirked. "Thank you. You're the greatest, Garcia."

"Oh, I know. Do you need anything else, sweetie?"

He thought to himself. "…Can this stay between us?"

"As if I'd ever let _anyone_ know _anything_ pertaining to my favorite little genius."

"Thank you again. Really, I appreciate it."

"Anytime! Over and out, junior g-man."

He hung up, lying on the couch and sighing to himself. He really hoped this meeting would help him cope with the pain and not turn to narcotics for relief.

* * *

Derek walked in, unhooking Clooney's leash.

"Garcia found a meeting," Spencer started, pointing to his phone. "It starts in eighty minutes."

"Where is it?"

"Community center."

"…Do you need me to go with you?"

He sighed. "Derek, I love you, but you coming to that meeting with me is the absolute last thing I want on this planet."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

Spencer pushed himself up on his elbows. "It's not that I don't want your support, because I do, and you've already been a great help, but… those meetings are my safe haven, where I can say everything I can't say to you. I just… I can't talk to you about what it's like to crave something so badly I want to just start bawling my eyes out, or about how they get to a point where I want to scream to get rid of the pain." He started picking at his nails, realizing how much he'd said. "You just don't understand how bad it gets. Can you respect that? Please?"

Derek walked over, sitting next to the couch. "This is what you needed?"

Spencer only nodded, looking down at his hands.

"Then I'll give you a ride, and pick you up after it's done. I won't even wait outside if you don't want me there."

"…I'm sorry I made you miss work."

Derek laughed softly. "Please, you saved me from a day of paperwork. I should be thanking you."

He shrugged, toying with the NA coin in his hands.

"You're better than caving in after all this time, Spencer. You know you are."

He nodded slightly. "I just… I need to get a few things out there that I can't share with you. I'm sure you understand."

Derek leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Of course."


	7. Chapter 7

Derek pulled up in front of the community center, getting out of the car and walking around to Spencer's side, opening the door. He held out his crutches and helped Spencer up.

"Thanks," he mumbled, balancing on his crutches and sighing.

Derek leaned in, kissing his cheek. "How long is this going to be?"

"An hour." He bit down on his lip. "I don't need you to stay out here. You can go do something and I can call you when I'm done."

"Oh, definitely not. With how accident prone you are, you'd somehow manage to hurt yourself waiting around for me to come get you."

Spencer smiled slightly. "I love you."

"Love you too, Pretty Boy. Do you need help getting inside?"

He shook his head. "I've got it."

He watched carefully as Spencer limped inside and got into the car, turning up the radio.

* * *

Spencer settled into one of the seats toward the back, watching the meeting unfold. He was extremely glad that Garcia had found a group of cops for him to talk with: it was always easier talking about unsubs and the job with people who actually understood. When it came his turn to speak, he pushed himself up, wincing, and limped up to the podium. Chewing on his lip, he looked out at the crowd.

"Hi, um… my name is Spencer, and I-I um, I'm two years clean of Dilaudid." When the small room congratulated him, he smiled. "Thank you. I recently… I was on the job, and I decided that… the best decision was to take a bullet for an innocent man who was being stalked and essentially told he was going to be killed." He cleared his throat. "If I were given the opportunity, I'd do the same thing all over again, because… that man, he got to go back to his son. He's able to live a peaceful life with his little boy because I took the bullet for him. That's something I'll never forget, and hopefully, something he never well."

He shifted uneasily on his crutches, sighing. "My only regret is the cravings. After I was shot, and I was sitting in the grass in front of his house, all I could think about was the pain, though if you ask my team, I just wanted to talk down the unsub and save this man. Unfortunately, that ended in having to shoot him, but I didn't take my mind off of the case." He sighed. "Once all was said and done, all I could think about, all I could focus on, was the throbbing pain in my leg. I thought back to my days on Dilaudid, and I weighed the options between pain relief and throwing away my progress." He bit down on his lip. "It took me a year and a half to get my one-year medallion because of a 'relapse', and I remember how defeated I felt… and how all I wanted was to have that medallion to know I accomplished something." He stood up straight, wincing slightly. "Am I getting all the pain relief I need for the _months_ of healing I'm going to have? No, definitely not, but… my progress? It means more to me right now than that. Yes, going back on Dilaudid would ease my pain, but then what? I'd get addicted again, and go through withdrawals, and lose everything I've accomplished. I-I want to thank everyone here, because… you've all made your own significant progress, and reminding myself of that is helping me through this."

He took a deep breath, before giving a slight nod and limping back to his seat. Yes, he could very easily duck out of the meeting and go home right now, but he wasn't going to: all of these strangers had the respect to listen to what he had to say, and he was going to do them the same favor.

* * *

Once the meeting was over, he limped outside, going to Derek's car. Derek saw him approaching the car and got up, running over to open his door.

"Derek, I'm fine. I can get my own door."

"I have faith in you, but if I'm here to help, take it."

Spencer sighed, holding out his crutches to him as he hobbled over to the door, getting in. Derek set his crutches in the backseat before getting in himself, starting the car.

On the drive, Derek turned to him. "Did it help?"

Spencer looked up at him. "Hm?"

"Did it help? Talking about it?"

Spencer bit on his lip. "Yeah, it… it really did. I'm really sorry for not letting you in there, Derek. It's just-"

Derek put up his hand. "You don't need to tell me, Pretty Boy."

Spencer nodded slightly, chewing on his lip. "Putting it all out there, it really, it helped me get some clarity on the whole situation. It also helped me cope with the cravings, for lack of a better word. They're still there, and they're always going to be there, but I think talking about it is just what I need. Do you think once a week-"

"No problem. I'll drive you."

He reached over, grabbing Derek's hand and squeezing it with a silent thank you.

* * *

Later that night, Spencer whimpered, leaning back on the bed. "Physical therapy _sucks_, Derek. It really does."

Derek walked in, setting an ice pack on his leg and handing him a few pills. "How bad?"

"Apparently the words 'I was shot in the leg, don't do too much' mean 'push me beyond my possible limits, please! I _love_ the excruciating pain shooting up my leg!'." He popped the pills in his mouth, swallowing and sighing. "And to think I have to repeat the process at least once a week until this is healed? That's the last time I save someone."

Derek shook his head. "No it's not. No matter how many times you get hurt on the job or anything happens to you? You are Spencer Reid, and you care too much about people to let _anyone_ suffer. So you can say it's the last time all you want, but at the end of the day, you'll take a bullet or a knife or _anything_ to spare someone else any trouble."

He glared at Derek. "You're such a corny drama king."

"But I'm right."

Spencer smiled slightly, grabbing his water off the nightstand and taking a sip. "You know what helps dull the pain of physical therapy?"

"I'm stumped. What?"

Spencer patted the spot beside him on the bed. "Cuddling."

"Is that so?"

He nodded. "And if you don't do it, I'll have to pull out my pout, and we all know that's an automatic loss on your end."

Derek smirked, kicking off his shoes and lying down beside him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

"Are you going to be okay while I go to work tomorrow?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, resting his head on Derek's chest.

"And no surprise visits?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Fine."


	8. Chapter 8

Derek was relieved when he didn't have any more surprise visits from Spencer at work for the rest of the week. However, Spencer liked to relieve his overwhelming boredom by calling Derek and talking about anything that was on his mind, and he meant anything. On Wednesday alone, Spencer called him four times: to remind him to pick up milk on the way home, to point out a mistake a history documentary made, to ask him his favorite color, and to talk about an interesting product he saw on an infomercial. Derek quickly talked him out of buying it with a promise he would take him to a bookstore once he was healed up, so he could really enjoy himself.

When Friday afternoon came, Derek peeked over at the clock.

"What, can't wait to get home and play the hero?" Emily asked, getting up and pulling on her jacket.

He smiled. "Play the hero, act like the maid, same thing, right?" he stretched slightly before taking his keys out of his pocket.

"How's he handling the whole down-time situation? He hasn't come in since Monday, so I figure it can't be that bad."

He raised his eyebrows. "Can't be that bad? There's two different Spencers. There's BAU Spencer, which you see every day, who's very orderly and anal and knowledgeable. Then there's apartment Spencer, who's extremely sarcastic and tells me to shut up at least five times a day."

"Well, do you say stupid things?"

"Who doesn't?"

She smirked. "Then maybe you should start listening to him. When is he back in?"

"First thing Monday morning, and oh, do I mean first thing. He'll probably be like a kid on Christmas morning, wide awake at 5:00 and ready to go."

"Make the coffee extra strong," she suggested, grabbing her purse and walking out.

* * *

Derek walked up to the apartment, walking inside. Surprisingly, he didn't find Spencer on the couch like he had every other night.

"Spencer?" he called out, setting his keys on the hook and closing the door behind him.

"In here!"

He raised an eyebrow, walking out to the kitchen. Spencer put the lid back on the pot, limping over and wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. "Good day at work?"

"Fine. Long, somewhat dull, but fine. What are you up to?"

"Making dinner, or at least attempting." He opened the oven door to show Derek a few wrapped baked potatoes and pieces of chicken. "It's the best I could do with my limited mobility. If you want something else, I can make it-"

"_Why_ are you making dinner?"

"Because it's that crazy time of day called 'dinner time', where one actually eats dinner?"

Derek shook his head. "You know what I meant."

"To thank you?"

Derek reached over, checking the pot and seeing green beans. "Thank me?"

"I haven't exactly been _easy_ this past week-"

"Tell me about it."

Spencer backhanded him, taking the plates out of the cabinet and limping over to the table, setting it. "-and I wanted to thank you for taking care of me, leaving work, and listening to me complain about how much pain I'm in."

"Put a bullet through my leg, and I'm sure I'd be worse."

Spencer smiled. "Oh, I know you would." He patted Derek's cheek, limping into the kitchen and grabbing the silverware. "Like I said, I'm sure I wasn't easy to deal with the past week, and I appreciate all of your help. There were two ways to thank you, and unless we get extremely creative, the first thing that popped into my mind isn't happening for a few more weeks. So, I figured dinner was the best way to thank you."

"You do realize last time you made dinner, I had to come and rescue you?"

Spencer mock laughed. "In case you haven't noticed, I've been home all week. Not only that, but I've been watching television all week. All recipes are from this extremely obnoxious woman on Food Network who never shuts up. I wrote them down, read them, committed them to memory, and there is _no_ possible way I messed this up."

* * *

When the timer went off, Derek put up his hand as Spencer tried to get up.

"What?"

"Pretty Boy, you did all the cooking, and I appreciate it, but there is _no_ way I'm going to have you somehow injure yourself on the oven door and not be back at work on Monday."

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but sighed. "Fine."

Derek got up, grabbing the plates and walking to the kitchen. He came back a minute later with the plates filled, setting them down. "So, does this have a name?"

"Yeah, actually, the chicken is-"

Derek shook his head. "It was a yes or no question."

"In that case, yes it does. It's called 'Derek Morgan, shut up and eat the food before I hit you'."

Derek put up his hands defensively, before cutting into the chicken. "_Wow_. It's actually cooked."

Spencer mimicked him before cutting into his own plate and eating.

* * *

That night, they laid back in bed, Derek with his arm wrapped around Spencer.

"Any plans for this weekend?"

Spencer shrugged slightly, adjusting the ice pack on his knee. "Considering I finally get to go back to work on Monday, I'm completely okay with a weekend in."

"You know Garcia's going to want to check in on you. She hasn't called you in a few days, you haven't called her, and you _know_ that momma bear wants to take care of her injured cub as much as she can."

He smirked. "What, sitting back in Quantico with her until I'm cleared by the doctor to fly again isn't going to be enough?"

"For her? Definitely not."

"Good point." He stretched, moving closer to Derek. "I'll deal with her tomorrow, but tonight, you know what I need?"

"Let me guess… medicinal cuddles?"

"Yes, and that's the perfect name."

Derek shook his head, kissing the top of Spencer's head before pulling the blankets over them, reaching up and running his hand through Spencer's hair. "Excited about work?"

He nodded, burying his head in Derek's chest. "Very, I need to stop myself from going stir-crazy."

"At least you get out of the house for a while," Derek suggested.

"Mhm." He reached up, putting a finger to Derek's lips. "Too much talking, not enough cuddling."

"Noted." He kissed Spencer's forehead, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer to himself.


	9. Chapter 9

On Monday morning, Spencer woke up early, hoping to get ready before Derek. He went through the clothes in his closet, pulling out an outfit and setting it on the bed. He attempted to balance and get his brace off so he could get dressed, but he was having no luck. Defeated, he reached over, nudging Derek.

"Derek?"

He sighed, sitting up. "Yes, Pretty Boy?"

He motioned toward his clothes. "I need help."

"What, can't go to work in the shorts you've been wearing all week?"

Spencer shot him a look. "You want me to show up at the FBI wearing a pair of shorts from when I was in college? Sorry, Derek, I actually _like_ being employed. Now, will you get up and help me?"

He got off the bed. "What do you need?"

"I need help taking off my brace so I can get dressed, then putting it _back_ on over."

"Sit."

"Excuse me?"

Derek pointed to the bed. "Sit."

Spencer sat down on the bed, wincing slightly as he bent his knee. Derek reached down, pulling off the Velcro straps and setting the brace on the bed. Spencer winced, biting down on his lip as he got dressed.

"You okay?"

He nodded slightly. "I'm fine."

"If you need to take another day-"

He scoffed. "Of sitting at home watching bad daytime television? No thank you."

Derek grabbed the brace, putting it back on and fastening it. "Can I get you some meds while you finish getting dressed?"

"Mhm."

Derek grabbed two mismatched socks from the drawer, putting them on Spencer's feet.

"Derek! I can manage to put my own socks on!"

"What, and have you pull a muscle or hurt your leg or otherwise injure yourself? Not a chance."

Spencer rolled his eyes, lifting his foot and nudging Derek's chest. "You're not funny."

"But I'm honest." He grabbed Spencer's shoes, putting them on and tying them. "Anything else?"

"No, _Derek_, I'm fine."

* * *

When Derek walked out, he reached over, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on. He buttoned it and pulled a vest over. "Derek, where are my crutches?"

"In the living room. Remember last night, you pulled that muscle and needed me to carry you to bed? _Another_ reason that you shouldn't have been trusted to get dressed on your own."

Spencer mock laughed. "Coffee and crutches. _Now_."

"Yes, sir."

Derek walked in a minute later with a coffee cup in one hand and his crutches in the other. "How are you feeling about going back to work today?"

Spencer reached out, taking his coffee cup. "How am I supposed to feel?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "However you want?"

He took a sip of his coffee, setting it on the nightstand. "Well, we both know that Garcia's first instinct is going to be to take care of me, and we both also know that's the last thing I want, considering I just had a week off with my injury." He grabbed his bag, checking that he'd packed everything. "Not to mention she's going to have Emily more likely than not keeping an eye on me, and JJ with her big sister instincts are going to want to check in _constantly_-"

"I didn't ask you to profile the team. I asked how you were feeling about going back to work."

Spencer took another sip of his coffee. "To be completely honest? It's one answer I don't have."

"Spencer Reid has _no_ answer. Hold on, let me call Guinness."

He smiled slightly. "It's true. Every time I come back from an injury, it's different. After Dowd, Hotch wouldn't stop worrying about me, even though I had my doctor confirm that there was no damage. After Hankel, I sort of tiptoed around in the background and hoped nobody would make a big deal of it. After Cyrus, Emily wouldn't stop apologizing to me, when in reality, I should have been apologizing to her. After the anthrax scare? Everyone, and I mean _everyone_, wouldn't stop treating me like a baby. They weren't mad at me for putting myself in danger. Instead, they were mad at themselves and I just, I didn't get it. Of course this time around, everyone _is_ mad at themselves, thinking it's their fault. I just… I don't want to be a victim again. I don't want pity or anything else. I just want to be treated like Spencer."

Derek reached over, rubbing his back. "Anything I can do?"

Spencer smirked. "Medicinal cuddling tonight?"

"I think I can make that happen."

* * *

As Derek was getting ready, Spencer sat in the living room, running his fingers through Clooney's fur.

"I think he's going to miss the company," he called toward the bedroom.

"Oh, definitely. He's my little attention whore. Well, my _other_ one."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "And Clooney, _that's_ why you're going to be cuddling with me tonight while your master is on the floor."

"Well that's not very nice," Derek said, walking out to his room, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his car keys.

"You sort of deserved it," Spencer reasoned, pushing himself up and balancing on his crutches.

"So, ready to go back to work?"

"Only one way to find out."

* * *

On the drive in, Derek stopped at Spencer's favorite coffee shop to get him a large coffee and some breakfast. Spencer smiled, taking a seat and leaning his crutches against the wall. "I know what you're trying to do, Derek."

"Oh, do you?"

"Stopping to get my favorite coffee, and making sure we get the barista who gets my order right every single time, on top of double and triple checking on my breakfast order? Come on, you're trying to get my mind on something that isn't going back to work today."

"I thought we agreed not to profile each other?"

"It's not really 'profiling' when the other person's facial expressions are an open book." He checked his sandwich one last time before taking a bite.

"So is it working?"

He nodded slightly, putting up his finger as he chewed. "It's very sweet, thank you." He leaned in, capturing Derek's lips with his.

Derek smiled, running a hand through Spencer's hair. "Anytime," he whispered, before kissing him again. Spencer usually wasn't one for PDA, but on a day like today, he could definitely use it.

* * *

"Definitely the perfect way to start _my_ Monday morning."

Spencer sighed, pulling back and looking over. "Hello, Garcia." He eyed Derek. "You could've mentioned that my favorite coffee shop became her new one."

"And miss this look on your face? Never."

"And all the points you just gained? Lost." He patted Derek's cheek, looking up at Garcia. "What brings you here?"

She held up her travel mug. "Best cup of coffee in town." She grabbed a chair, pulling it over to the table. "How are we feeling, 187?"

He took another bite of his sandwich, nodding. "Not bad. My leg only hurts when I think about it and focus on the injury, so as long as I don't have people asking questions constantly, I'll be fine."

"Considering we work with a bunch of nosy folks? Good luck with that." She patted his arm, pushing herself up. "This is fantastic, but I must get going. Feel free to go back to your PDA."

"So you can later hack into the security cameras for the coffee shop and have yourself a show?" Spencer asked. "No thank you."

Derek smirked. "Somebody's busted."

"It was fun while it lasted." She ruffled Spencer's hair before walking out.

Spencer shook his head, patting his hair down.

"Do we need to change your coffee shop now?"

"No, she needs to change hers."

He laughed softly, grabbing Spencer's crutches and standing in front of him. "Do you need some help?"

Spencer nodded and took Derek's outstretched hand, pulling himself up and hobbling slightly, getting on his crutches. "If Garcia is any indication? Today is definitely going to be interesting."

* * *

In the elevator, Spencer leaned over, pressing the button for the sixth floor.

"You know, Pretty Boy, those crutches are already working wonders."

He turned around, shooting a glare at Derek. "Get your eyes off of my ass, or I'm going to kick yours."

"Oh?"

"I still have one working leg and a high IQ, I'm sure I can figure it out. Or I could always rat you out to Garcia – I'm sure she'd have no problem dishing out a punishment for 'embarrassing her junior g-man."

"Ouch."

* * *

When the elevator stopped on their floor, Derek held onto the door open button while Spencer adjusted himself on his crutches, limping out. Derek also followed him to his desk, making sure that he didn't slip. Spencer sat down, resting his crutches against his desk and saying a silent prayer that they wouldn't slip.

"If you need painkillers at all today, I put a bottle of Tylenol into your bag."

Spencer took his bag off, setting it on his desk. "And that's why I keep you around."

"Is that so?"

He gave a slight shrug. "And I guess you're not _so_ bad in bed."

"Nice, Reid."

Spencer groaned, spinning his chair around and looking at Rossi.

"Not quite how I wanted to welcome you back, but I guess it's your call."

He blushed slightly, chewing on his lip. "Saving the awkward small talk to follow – thank you for welcoming me back, it only hurts when I think about the injury, I haven't had any cravings, and yes, it's good to be back."

"That about covers it." He patted Spencer's shoulder. "If you need anything, I'll be in my office."

Spencer gave him a thumbs up before he took off to his office. He turned back and saw Derek ready to make a comment. "Shut up and go to work."

* * *

Spencer was extremely relieved when he had a quiet day back at the BAU. Of course, he had everyone checking in on him, but they weren't persistent, which really helped in keeping the injury off his mind. However, whenever he had to get up and grab something from the fax machine or the printer, either Emily or Derek magically needed to get something as well, getting up and grabbing it for him. He appreciated the gesture, but didn't appreciate the fact that he seemed to spend the day glued to his seat.

When it was time to leave, he groaned, pushing himself up and grabbing his crutches. Realizing he left his bag on the floor, he sighed, attempting to reach down and grab it.

Emily walked over, taking the bag and handing it to him. "I figured I'd save you a tumble."

He smiled slightly. "Thank you." He put the bag over his shoulder. "You know, Emily, you don't have to keep beating yourself up over this. I'm fine. The brace is going to be off in a few months and I'll be walking again shortly after that."

"But Reid-"

"Work related injuries happen – especially on this job, and especially to me. I'm not mad at you for leaving to find Hotch. I'm glad you did, because you leaving let us know what happened to him. I wouldn't take back taking that bullet for Doctor Barton, and if you'd been there, it could've been a lot worse for one or both of us. The unsub was extremely unstable, and I'm lucky he didn't lash out at me for getting shot instead of Barton. If there had been two of us, it wouldn't have ended so well. Now, will you _stop_ feeling bad about this and getting everything for me? Just because I was shot in the leg doesn't mean I'm incompetent."

She smirked, patting his arm. "Thank you, but there's not a chance I'm having you up and down on those things several times a day."

"Derek put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Not at all. Why do you think I had to fight him to get the fax from Albuquerque earlier?"

He shrugged. "I figured he grabbed something of yours and he was holding it hostage. It wouldn't have been the first time."

"Definitely not. Can I do anything for you?"

He shook his head. "Derek's taking me to physical therapy, and after that? All I need is to go home, get some dinner, sucker Derek into running me a bubble bath, and relax. Perks of being broken? I never have to get up to let Clooney out – Derek always takes responsibility for it, so I get to spend as much time as I want in bed resting my knee."

"Living the good life I see. Enjoy."

"Will do."

* * *

Derek walked up to his desk. "Ready to head out?"

"Mhm," he started, adjusting his crutches, "any chance I can guilt you into making dinner tonight after physical therapy, even though it's my night?"

"Sounds like it could happen. What are you thinking?"

He limped out to the elevator, pressing the button. "I'm thinking I need to rest my knee in bed while you cook whatever you can come up with."

Derek smiled. "I think I can handle it." He paused when Spencer limped into the elevator, wincing. "Is it bothering you?"

He shrugged. "A little." He pressed the button for the ground floor on the elevator. "It always bothers me, in a sense, because come on, I'm not walking normally. Who wouldn't be bothered by that? But, pain-wise? The Tylenol is probably wearing off. I'll take a couple more when I get home, let it kick in while you get dinner ready."

"Once we get home, I'll let Clooney out, you go to bed and I'll bring the meds to you. How does that sound?"

"Like _perfection_." He leaned over, kissing Derek's cheek. "Oh, and one more thing?"

"Yeah, Pretty Boy?"

"Garcia told me you were checking me out from behind when I went to the break room for my coffee. I know you're a fan of the crutches, but _do_ try to make it a little more subtle in the workplace."


	10. Chapter 10

While in the waiting room, Derek kept himself occupied with a few magazines while Spencer sat there impatiently. He reached down, undoing the straps on his brace.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "_What_ are you doing?"

He sighed, taking off the brace and handing it to him. "As great as this thing is? I can't wear it during physical therapy. The whole point of it is to learn how to be independent and try working without it, which I find absolutely ridiculous. Come on, it was just eleven days ago I got shot in the leg saving somebody's life, I'd like to think I deserve a little bit of leeway here."

Derek smirked, setting the brace in his lap. "Shouldn't you be leaving your crutches in the waiting room, too?"

"Yeah, like I'm going to get up and _completely_ fall on my ass, Derek."

Derek quickly covered up a laugh with a cough as Spencer was called in. Spencer pushed himself up, balancing on his crutches and limping into the office.

* * *

Spencer sat down on the table, hoping he could make it through this appointment without going through intense pain like he did the previous time. When his doctor walked in, he tried not to groan as he started talking to him.

"Okay, Spencer, can you try to bend your knee for me?"

He nodded slightly, taking a deep breath and putting his legs straight in front of him. He bit his lip, bending his knee as much as he possibly could. He squeezed his eyes shut when it sent a pain up his leg.

"Now back down."

Relieved, he bent it down, straightening it out. He repeated the action a few more times, and could only think of going home and relaxing with an ice pack later on.

When it came to the assisted walking, he attempted to push his pain back and think about something else, so the doctor wouldn't see him as weak and pull back on the exercises, erasing the progress he'd made. He had to admit, assisted walking was the most embarrassing thing to do. It made him feel dependent, which was the last possible thing he wanted to be.

"Is eight steps significant progress?" he asked, lying down on his stomach and crossing his arms, resting his head against them.

"Definitely, considering that most patients who have had this sort of damage to their leg only take about five at the second appointment."

He exhaled, relieved, as he felt the resistance band around his ankles.

"I need you to lift your leg as much as you can against the band."

He gave a slight nod, turning his head slightly and lifting his leg. He watched the doctor's face for some sort of reaction he could profile, and was disappointed when there was nothing.

"Roll over, please?" his doctor asked as he removed the band.

He rolled over, lying on his back, bending his right leg up.

"Very good." His doctor picked up his left leg, pushing it toward his head. "Any pain?"

He sighed, nodding. "A little bit, but it's not as bad as bending it."

His leg was set down again and he breathed a sigh of relief, happy that his appointment was finally over.

* * *

He pushed himself off the table, reaching over for his crutches and limping out to the waiting room. Derek took notice and grabbed his brace, walking over to him. Spencer took a seat while Derek fastened it onto his leg, looking up at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Spencer sighed, leaning in and resting his forehead against Derek's. "Do we have ice at home?"

"I can pick up more on the way."

He nodded, holding out his hand to Derek. He took it, pulling him up and helping him onto his crutches.

"Anything else?"

"If you happen to be in the grocery store and come across a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream…"

Derek smirked. "Consider it done."

* * *

Spencer sat in the car while Derek ran into the grocery store. He had just found a radio station he was satisfied with when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He reached in, grabbing it and answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, sweetie. How's the leg?"

He leaned back. "Still a bit tender. I pushed myself further than I should have at physical therapy today, but my doctor did notice that I made significant progress, so I guess that's something?"

"You're going to relax tonight, right? I don't want you letting Clooney out, or going to the kitchen for a snack, or getting a book from the living room or _anything_, do you hear me?"

He smiled. "I promise. I've already made Derek agree to making dinner tonight and doing all the work around the house so I could relax. All I'm going to do tonight is eat dinner, take a bubble bath, and get some sleep."

"A bubble bath, you say?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, a bubble bath. As in, you know, a bath with bubbles in it?"

"Oh, don't worry, sweet cheeks, I heard that part. I didn't hear if you'd be enjoying said bubble bath _alone_."

He blushed slightly. "Whether I have company in my own bathtub is none of your business, but for the record, I _was_ planning on taking it alone."

"Was? As in past tense?"

"As in none of your business. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You shall. Let me know if that pesky little leg is still bothering you and I'll have something to make it feel better."

"You're the best, Garcia."

"Trust me, Boy Wonder, I know."

* * *

He hung up the phone as Derek set several bags in the backseat.

"What did you get?"

Derek smiled. "Enough ice to last an Eskimo through the winter and a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream, as well as enough coffee to last through a zombie apocalypse."

"…If there was a zombie apocalypse, why would we need coffee? You wouldn't be able to run from them forever, and even if you tried-"

Derek shook his head, leaning over and kissing Spencer.

Spencer pulled back, smacking his lips together. "So, enough coffee for a zombie apocalypse? Great."

He laughed softly. "I thought so."

* * *

After arriving home, Spencer turned to Derek. "Do you mind starting dinner while I try to relax?"

"No problem. I know if I said no, I'd have Garcia on my ass before I could even blink."

He smiled, patting Derek's cheek. "Good boy." He limped to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Derek shook his head, unlocking the back door and allowing Clooney to run into the yard. While he was looking through the cabinets for pasta, his phone started ringing. He reached in his pocket, grabbing it and answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Derek."

He paused. "Mom, did Penelope call you?"

"Yes she did. I think my son's boyfriend getting shot is something I should be informed of."

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, ma. From now on when crazy unsubs decide to shoot in the general area of Spencer, I'll let you know."

"That's all I ask. How's he doing?"

He grabbed a box of pasta, putting it into the boiling water. "He's good. A lot better than he was, really. He actually ended up taking a bullet for someone, and instead of worrying about the injury, he talked down the unsub."

"Oh, _did_ he?"

He smirked. "Oh, I know that tone of voice all too well from my teenage years. Trust me, the team's already chewed him out for this one."

"So he's okay?"

"He had a few hours of surgery to repair the damage to his leg, and he's going to be on crutches for quite some time, but he's healing up. At first he had trouble accepting the fact he couldn't do everything for himself. Luckily he's finally learned how to ask for help when he needs it instead of trying to do it all like a pain in the ass."

"I heard that, Derek!" Spencer called from the bathroom.

He laughed softly. "And he's making progress at physical therapy. Slowly, but he is."

"That's good. Is he still at work?"

"Yeah, he just got back this morning after a week off with his injury, and had an appointment at physical therapy this afternoon."

"Send him some well wishes from me, will you?"

"Of course. I'm sure some of your peach cobbler would cheer him up."

"Don't listen to him, Fran, peach cobbler is his favorite. I'm more a fan of your lemon bars!"

"Well, let him know some of those will be on their way."

"I will. Love you, momma."

"Love you too. Let Spencer know I love him too."

He smiled. "Will do."

He hung up, setting his phone on the counter and draining the pasta.

* * *

"Spencer, two minutes to dinner."

He heard a sigh. "Derek?"

"Yeah, Pretty Boy?"

"I need help."

Derek set the pot down, walking to the bathroom. "What's up?"

Spencer held up his hand. "I can't get out without putting pressure on my leg or somehow hurting myself."

"Do you know this from experience, or did it dawn on you all on your own?"

Spencer mimicked him. "I know it from 'Derek Morgan, shut up and help me up'."

He smirked, bending down and wrapping his arms around Spencer.

"Derek, I swear to God, do not lift me out of this bathtub or-"

"Or what?" Derek asked, picking him up.

Spencer rolled his eyes as Derek set him down, wrapping a towel around him. "Just remember your own words, Derek. Paybacks are a bitch."

"I'm sure. Do you need any more help, or-"

"I've got it from here. Go let Clooney in and finish dinner."

He kissed the top of Spencer's head before walking out.

* * *

Spencer limped into the kitchen a few minutes later, taking his seat.

"…No crutches?"

"I left them in the living room and I figured it was easier to limp out than have to call you to get them."

"I could've grabbed them for you, I wouldn't have minded."

Spencer shook his head as Derek set the plate in front of him. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, I'm still slightly mad at you for physically lifting me out of the tub instead of just giving me a hand like I wanted."

Derek sat down, picking up his own fork. "How's it feeling?"

"It definitely doesn't feel _good_. Combine physical therapy with the twenty-six unassisted steps I just took and I feel like my leg might just fall off, though I know it's impossible."

"How about after dinner, I put you on the bed with your leg elevated and an ice pack? I'll pop in a Star Wars DVD and we'll have a quiet night in."

"I think that sounds amazing."

"Thought so. Mom's worried about you, and said she's sending some of her lemon bars."

Spencer smiled. "Fantastic. _Maybe_ if I like you, I'll share."

"Is that so?"

He nodded, before cutting into his spaghetti. "Payback."

* * *

That night, they both sat up in bed. While watching the movie, Spencer was sure to bring up several trivia facts and slight inaccuracies. Derek looked down at Spencer's leg.

"How's it feeling?"

He sighed. "Okay, I guess? It's sore, of course, because of the physical therapy, and then the few steps I took to the kitchen earlier. I really should thank you for carrying me in here after dinner."

"Don't mention it. Does this earn me points for a lack of payback?"

He reached over, patting Derek's cheek. "It definitely helps."

"What about some medicinal cuddling?"

He smirked. "Now _that_ will earn you major points." He reached down, grabbing the ice pack and setting it on his nightstand before pulling the pillow out from under his leg. He shifted slightly, lying back on the bed as Derek pulled the blankets up.

He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, kissing his forehead. "Need anything else, Pretty Boy?"

He shook his head slightly. "I'll be fine."


	11. Chapter 11

Over the next few weeks, Spencer was showing definite signs of improving. He had been able to walk around the house a bit with just his brace on, though he insisted on using the crutches at work, bringing into account his clumsiness and how easily he'd trip on something and make his leg even worse. Unfortunately, his progress wasn't as significant as he thought, and his physical therapist insisted on keeping him on his crutches for the time being.

The day before Hotch was set to return to work, Spencer sat on the couch, his leg propped up on the table.

"Can you believe that guy? 'Yes, Spencer, you're improving, but I'll need you to stay on the crutches'. Come on, what good are they doing me?" He looked up and saw Derek ready to respond. He quickly pointed a finger at him. "And don't you _dare_ say 'they're working wonders on your ass, Pretty Boy' again."

Derek smirked, handing him a coffee mug. "They're saving you from walking before your body is actually ready for it and causing more damage than what's already been done."

"You're starting to sound like Dr. Dumbass," Spencer said, sipping his coffee and setting the mug down.

"That doctor is the best you could possibly get, and work is paying for him, so I'd take what he says seriously and get as much as you can out of him."

Spencer mimicked him, changing the channel.

* * *

"Does Hotch know what happened yet?" Spencer asked, setting the remote beside him.

Derek sighed, sitting beside him. "Not the whole story. Rossi gave him a cliff notes version, if you will." Spencer raised an eyebrow at him. "What, you've never heard of cliff notes?"

"…No?"

"They're basically study guides based on a subject, such as an actual subject or a book or something."

Spencer looked at him, confused. "So, they're cheating materials? Who on earth would publish cheating material? That's just wrong. If you want to know the subject matter, just read the book."

Derek shook his head. "_Anyway_, Hotch knows something happened to you. He knows you got shot, he knows you were in surgery while he was in the hospital, and he knows you currently have something from the Terminator on your leg."

"But?"

"How do you know there's a but?"

"First, your body language is hinting that you have something to add, but you don't want to say it directly. Second, your intonation gives it away." Before Derek could accuse him of profiling, he added "and like I said, stop reading like a book."

Derek smiled. "_But_ he doesn't know the exact details of how it happened. He figured if Hotch knew that Emily left you alone to go find him, he'd only feel guiltier than he already does. So, if he asks, Emily was there when it happened and called the ambulance."

"…You're asking me to lie to our unit chief, who's the best profiler of all of us?"

"_Just_ asking for a bend on the truth until he's ready for the whole thing."

Spencer sighed. "Fine, but you _owe_ me."

"Oh, do I?"

Spencer reached over, hitting his arm. "No."

* * *

The next morning, Spencer checked his phone before he finished getting dressed.

"Text from JJ. 'Don't spread the word yet, but it looks like we're going to have a case in Louisville'. So Hotch gets to come back to something interesting, while I had to sit at my desk for the last few weeks, bored out of my skull."

"Trust me, I'm pretty sure Hotch needs to throw himself into some work right now."

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Your doctor cleared you to fly, right?"

He nodded slightly. "I got a second opinion and I'm good to go."

Derek raised his eyebrow. "I thought your physical therapist wanted you to wait and not put so much strain on it."

Spencer strapped his brace on. "Which is why I'll be spending my time at the police station, either relaxing with my leg up or sitting down the whole time. What could possibly happen to me doing that?" He saw Derek ready to react. "Don't answer that."

He smiled, holding the crutches out to Spencer. "Then let's get to work."

Spencer balanced on his crutches, before limping out after Derek, ready to work with his whole team again.


End file.
